


we are our own undoing

by tobus (asoldandtrueasthesky)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Marauders' Era, Post-First War with Voldemort, Raising Harry, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:04:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6478657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asoldandtrueasthesky/pseuds/tobus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's October 31st, 1981 and Voldemort is dead. The wizarding world may celebrate but for Remus and Sirius the war is far from over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are our own undoing

 

The air is alive with magic. Dark magic, old magic, blood magic.

It feels like time has stopped around the house, the numb feeling of unreality pulling down at his limbs. The house is dark and unlit. He knows something’s _wrong_ , he’d felt the Secret he’d never been entrusted with snap, felt the magical bonds that protected his best friends crumble. He’d always been sensitive to magic in a way none of the others were, a rare gift hidden in his curse.

He knows he’s too late the moment he enters the house but his heart still stops when he sees James, his broken body left abandoned the hallway.

“Prongs.” Remus says, crouching next to him even though James won’t hear it. James won’t ever hear anything again. He looks peaceful, at least, he’s not bloodied or bruised. Just lifeless. It makes him look so young but then, he was, they all were. Children who had barely finished their childhoods, children fighting a war. They’ve won the war but Remus, selfishly, can’t help but think the price was too high, too high. “Prongs.”

“Get off him.”

Remus had barely noticed the other walk in, drawn by his words. Sirius’s face is dark with distrust, body tense, back arched as if fighting the urge to become Padfoot. Things were simpler when you were an animal, they hurt less. Remus meets his eyes and their hands find their wands simultaneously.

The air is filled with accusations.

“You were the secret keeper!”

“You were the spy!”

A curse whistles past him, hitting the wall and the force of the explosion blows both of them off their feet. Sirius is the first up but Remus shouts hexes from the floor, enough to hold his opponent off until he could get to his feet.

Sparks fly between them and the duel rages on. The cry of a baby is the only thing that distracts them from their deadly dance, the only thing they have left to care about.

“Harry? He’s alive?” Sirius says, immediately looking in the direction of the nursery.

“Impedimenta!” Remus doesn’t wait to see if the spell had hit, doesn’t wait to see if Sirius was about to hit him in the back, just charges in the direction of the nursery like a true Gryffindor. Harry is all that matters now.

He hardly dares to breathe as he walks in, carefully stepping over a corpse that he can’t look at.

And there he is. Harry, impossibly, wonderfully alive. The only evidence that he’s survived one of the darkest wizards to ever live is a scar in the middle of his forehead, a storm of lightening contained on his face. For a moment he senses something akin to the itch of the fidelius charm before its keeper had stripped its protections away, some arcane magic bound to his infantile form but the door breaks open before he can think too much of it.

“Don’t.” Sirius snarls from the doorway. His hex hadn’t held, then. “I swear to Merlin, if you harm a hair on his head I’ll make you regret it.”

Remus falters for a moment, logic finally inserting itself in the place of blind hurt. If it wasn’t just an act, if Sirius really did believe he was the traitor then who? 

Sirius takes advantage of his lapse just as he had done but, spurred on by anger and grief and Harry, goes further, too far, like always.

The pain is all he’s aware of for several moments and the next thing he sees is Sirius clutching Harry in one hand, his wand held tightly in the other. It’s pointed at Remus’s temple. The look of fear and grief and anger in his eyes is almost feral but it’s not hate, not the glare of an embittered Dark Wizard. _Not Sirius,_ he thinks, _never Sirius,_ and the relief is almost enough to forgive him for the burn that was quickly enveloping the left side of his face. Almost.

He groans, clawing off the silver that now covered half his face, belatedly realising he was on the floor. He struggles into a sitting position and looks up at Sirius. The ruins of their friends, of everything that had mattered are strewn around them and it’s hard to imagine there’s anything left to salvage of their own bonds.

“Give me your wand.”

His grief turns to anger, anger that coarses through his veins and for once, he welcomes it, allows it to settle. It hurts less. “So I’m supposed to just trust you when you haven’t trusted me for a year? How could I have done this? They trusted _you_.”

“I wasn’t the secret keeper.” Sirius snarled. “I wouldn’t do this!”

“Neither was I, thanks to you.”

Sirius is hesitant now, regretful. “I… I got them to make Peter keeper instead. I thought Peter might have been an idiot and told you. Or you could have captured him… I wasn’t really thinking.”

 _Peter._ If he hadn’t spent the past few minutes thinking the only man he’d ever loved had committed the deepest betrayal the revelation would have left him stricken. Instead Remus laughs. It sounds like a bark. “Clearly not,” he said coldly, “so I went and dragged Peter out in the middle of the night and tortured it out of him? You forget I’m only a monster one day a month.”

Sirius flinches. “Remus-“

“No.” Remus cuts him off. “You think I would do that? You think Voldemort would allow _animals_ in his inner circle? You think Voldemort would ever trust someone like me?”

“He trusts Fenrir Greyback.”

“Fenrir Greyback is Voldemort’s attack dog, nothing more.” The name is acid on his tongue, he bites it hard enough to draw blood, anything to stop himself from remembering. He pulls his sleeve up. His skin is twisted by scars but nothing else, no dark mark. “Give me back my wand.”

Sirius watches him for a moment, still clutching Harry protectively to his chest but then tosses him his wand.

Remus takes it and stands up, taking in a shaky breath. His face still feels like it’s on fire and some primal part of him wants to retaliate, as if more fighting will make any of it better.

Harry breaks the tension by crying again. He probably wants his mother. _Me too,_ Remus thinks. He stuffs his wand in his pocket.

“We’d better-“Remus begins but he’s cut off by another set of footsteps, loud booming ones. He takes out his wand, stepping in front of Sirius and Harry; he doesn’t relax when it turns out to be Hagrid. They’ve spent the war learning to suspect everyone, to be on the lookout for polyjuice, imperiuses and _spies_.

He mutters the various charms under his breath until he’s convinced the man is Hagrid but the half-giant’s barely noticed, too shocked by the sight of a dead Lily Potter.

Hagrid shakes his head. “Horrible business, horrible business.” His face creases into a frown when he sees Harry crying and the two of them doing nothing to comfort him. “Wha’ have yeh bin doing, eh? He’s upset.”

Remus feels ashamed, for a moment, realising they’d been too deep in their own grief to take notice of Harry’s.

“We got a bit out of hand,” Remus says, with what he hopes is a friendly smile. It feels wrong to even fake one when James and Lily’s corpses haven’t even grown cold but keeping up the act is too ingrained a habit. Sirius says nothing, simply fixing Hagrid with a stony, suspicious stare.

“Righ’, well, I’ve been sent to collect Harry here.”

Sirius freezes. “Why? Where are you taking him?”

“Ta live with the muggles, Dumbledore says so.”

“The Dursleys? _No_.” Sirius growls. “I’m his godfather. I can take care of him.”

“I ’ave to take ‘im, I’m afraid. Moody would have me skin.”

“I’m his godfather.” Sirius repeats, “I promised.”

“Sorry, Dumbledore’s orders, you know. ‘e’ll be safe. Might just be fer now, y’never know, I’ll try an’ put in a word fer you with Dumbledore.”

Remus doesn’t say anything. They wouldn’t have been able to make him godfather if they’d wanted to, the Ministry would never give a baby to a werewolf. Legally, he’s nothing to Harry and some part of him is glad of it. Harry’s better off without him.

Sirius presses Harry into Hagrid’s arms with a gentleness that even Remus has never seen. He mutters, haltingly, “Take my motorbike. It’ll get you there faster.”

Hagrid’s eyes light up. “Y’sure?”

“I don’t need it anymore.”

With a last goodbye Hagrid hurries out of the house, anxious to fulfil the task he’d been entrusted with.  

They stand there, in the ruins of the house, until Sirius bursts out, “We need to do _something_!” and moves towards the door with sudden manic energy.

 “Wait.” Remus says and walks over to what is left of Lily Potter, aching with guilt. He’d barely noticed her, what with Harry and Sirius and Hagrid.

From her position she must have died protecting her son, defying Voldemort with her very last breath. For a few moments he wallows in grief and then is struck by anger, deep rage aimed at whoever had allowed this to happen. He knows, then, with terrifying certainty that he is going to kill Peter Pettigrew.

He gently presses her eyelids shut. She looks peaceful, as if only in a deep slumber but Remus knows she’ll never wake up. He walks back to Sirius.

Sirius is shaking, hand trembling over the door knob, probably too deep in shock to even begin to process his grief and anger. As Remus approaches he seems to jolt back in to some semblance of reality, his lost gaze set on Remus, asking for answers. _What now?_

“Harry.” Remus says, too broken to say anything else and Sirius nods. It’s nothing short of a miracle that they don’t splinch themselves through apparating.

 

The air is cold and devoid of magic, arcane or otherwise. The village of Little Whinging sleeps, oblivious to the miracle left on its doorstep.

They’d stopped off at Peter’s house and found it empty. No sign of a struggle, no body, no dark mark floating in the sky. It’s all the evidence they need to condemn him.

Sirius is fuming. “They’ve left Harry on the doorstep! Alone! In this weather!”

“Dumbledore will have left a warming charm on him, he’s not an idiot.”

“Yeah, but Dumbledore doesn’t know how to take care of a baby.”

“Neither do you. The Dursleys will take him in soon.”

“From what we saw of them at the wedding I’m not so sure.” Sirius glares at him. “You’re meant to be on my side.”

“Am I?” Remus is too weary to argue.

The sudden, sharp sound of Harry’s cries distract Sirius from whatever he’d been about to say next.  “I’m his godfather.” Sirius says again and moves towards the house.

Remus grabs his arm just before he can step into the spotlight of a streetlamp. “You can’t. Petunia’ll never take him if she sees you with him.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.” Sirius says belligerently. “Or I could be Pads, he always liked Pads.”

 “She’d probably call you a dirty stray and kick you away.”

“I’d bite her.”

“Exactly why you’re staying out here.”

Sirius mutters something under his breath but doesn’t press the point. Harry’s cries subside eventually but Remus still feels guilty, like he’s broken a promise never made. He’s on the cusp of going over to him himself though Sirius had been right, Harry would probably appreciate Padfoot more.

Petunia finally ventures out and promptly screams in shock. As she reads the note left for her the worry on her face is quickly replaced by a scowl. So much for mourning Lily Evans, Remus thinks, and Sirius bristles next to him.

But, against all odds, she takes him inside leaving them alone on the streets of Muggle Britain with no godson to watch over.

Dawn breaks and neither of them move. Sirius starts to sob. “How did this happen, Moony? Yesterday everything was fine and now…” Now their world was shattered while the rest of the wizarding world celebrated; now Harry didn’t have parents; now Lily and James would never get to have their family, would never get all the experiences they deserved. 

Remus prefers to mourn quietly and privately but while once he would have reached out to Sirius and shared his own pain all he says is, “I don’t know.”

Hesitantly, Sirius reaches out to him. Remus flinches and pushes him away. “You haven’t even apologised for the second degree burns let alone the part where you threw me out of our flat in case I was the spy instead of, you know, fucking talking to me.”

Sirius looks away, knowing there was no apology that would fix any that and his mind was likely still stuck on the idea of never being able to talk to James again to think of much else. “Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore. It’s numb, I’m pretty sure it fried the nerve endings.”

Sirius fumbles in his enlarged pockets, he always carried around some medical remedies to use on full moons and pressed some into his hands. “Do you need to sleep?”

“There’s something we have to do first.”

A meaningful look passes between them and for a moment it’s like they’re sixteen again, so close that words aren’t needed.

Sirius nods. “We kill Peter.” 

 

 

It wasn’t hard to track down someone you’d known since childhood. However much Peter had changed, had twisted, they knew him to the very core, knew how he’d run for cover.

He’s in the middle of the street, anxious and twitching. Remus tightens his grip on his wand and calls out, his voice cool and calm, “Peter.”

For a split second he sees the ghost of the old Peter, stricken and all too aware that he was in too deep.

For a moment he expects Peter to burst in to tears, to somehow have an explanation that would make everything okay again. But they weren’t children, this wasn’t a game, there were no takebacks. This was war and James and Lily were dead.

The ghost of their friend disappears, replaced with the hollow shell that Peter had become. His mouth twists in a sneer and he shrieks, his voice high pitched, “How could you, Remus? Sirius? James and Lily, how could you?”

Sirius lunges for him, seemingly forgetting his magic in murderous rage. Remus realises a second too late that Peter has his left arm- _his wand arm_ \- behind him, something pointed at the street.

Thankfully, it’s just enough time to create a shield around them. He hadn’t casted a shield charm, there had been no time for words and a flick of his wand, just an instinctive pull at the magic around them, forcing it into shape.

He can feel destruction screaming against his shield, he doesn’t even know if Sirius’s is protected by it, doesn’t know if it’ll hold and then everything stops.

He’s aware of the rest of the street again except there’s nothing left of it but corpses and rubble and Peter is gone, a bloodied finger the only remnant of the wordless destruction he’d wrought. Sirius murmurs a freezing charm and pockets it, eerily calm.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Remus whirls around at the familiar sounds of apparaition and finds a team of aurors with their wands pointed at _them_. Belatedly realising how this must look, Sirius grabs his hand and before he can register anything else they’re in a backstreet of Hogsmeade.

Sirius lets out a shaky breath. “We’ve just been outsmarted by Peter bloody Pettigrew.” 

Remus laughs. They hadn’t given Peter enough credit. Suddenly the past year makes sense, Peter had twisted the paranoia against him, encouraged it, while still perfectly playing his part and none of them had suspected a thing.

Sirius laughs too, the laughter biting and bitter. For just a moment Remus can feel the distance of years between them bridged but then they remember who’s missing, who will always be missing, and the distrust and acrimony between them flickers back up again.

As he stares at the man who’d tried to kill him mere hours ago Remus can’t help but wonder if there’s anything left between them worth staying for. “What now?”  

“I was hoping you’d have some ideas about that.”

Remus paces, barely resisting the urge to scratch at his itching burns. He doesn’t care if it scars. “We need to rest somewhere. We’re not going to catch Peter today, he’ll be deep in the sewers by now.”

Sirius nods slowly. “The shack’s close by.”

“Alright.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He says in a tone that left no room for argument. He wasn’t going to be scared off by childhood demons.

 

Remus shivers. The shack had never been built for comfort but he’d never really noticed how desolate it was, usually too focused on dreading the oncoming transformation.

The rooms look like a hurricane’s ripped through them rather than an adolescent werewolf. There’s a couple of mattresses that are vaguely usable, though whole chunks are missing but neither of them are feeling very fussy.

“I’m sorry.” Sirius mutters. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve messed up loads of times, I was an idiot when I was fifteen and I’m an idiot now. I should have trusted you.” _And maybe then they’d still be alive,_ the words neither of them could speak- Sirius because he thought they were true and Remus because he wasn’t about to hit anyone with their own kryptonite.  

“It’s alright. It’s not that important, I’m still alive.”

“It is important. I hurt you, I keep on hurting you.”

“Look, I’ve forgiven you several times over for that _prank_ so just drop it. We’re not fifteen anymore.”

“I wasn’t fifteen when I accused you of being a spy.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”  

The conversation dies until they’re about to fall asleep. The dark makes confessions easier.

“Remus. I don’t want to be alone.”

Remus looks up at him and sees him for what he is, a man who’d just lost the same best friends that he had. “Padfoot can sleep over here if he wants to.”

Sirius almost smiles and soon there’s a great big black dog standing before him and a heavy but comforting weight on his feet.

“Don’t hog the bed.”

His dreams are filled with dogs and stags and rats, echoes of happier times, not the nightmares he’d expected. But then something jolts him awake and he remembers he’s stuck in a living nightmare.

Sirius is jabbing him in the ribs. Remus goes to push him away but there’s an urgency in his eyes that he can’t ignore. He grabs his wand and sits up, blinking away drowsiness.

Sirius hisses, “We’re surrounded by aurors.”

“Shit.”

 


End file.
